Lord of the Rings Morantwen's Story
by Morni Grattley
Summary: Morantwen Ariamor was an elf maiden of Aridan. She was always doing things out of line. But now she's pushed it to the limit. As she goes into Middle-Earth to find the answers to her odd visions, she runs into...a hobbit. His name was Frodo Baggins.
1. Prologue

'Middle-Earth. I know a lot about it. I cannot say I live there though. I live on the outskirts. In a place no one knows about in Middle-Earth, except maybe a few elves, like me. I, myself, am Morantwen Ariamor. If you would want the ability to think of how I look visually then here you are: I look much like the rest of my family, straight hair down to my waist, the color of coals. My skin is the color of brown fall leaves. I am tall and, to other people, graceful. But my most amazing features, also according to other people, are my eyes. They are actually a jet black but at my will (or if something dreadful is coming) they can turn a blue as bright as the young hobbit's, Frodo Baggins, who I think has some part to play in the future. I am pretty smart, I am good at history, considering the fact that I have been on this earth since just a little after the fall of Sauron. I am pretty young. Oh, about 2,927 years old. I am not sure. I do not remember. For I forever look like I am seventeen. All right, so enough about me. Let me get on with what I think is going to happen in the near future. Now, I cannot foresee the future or anything but I have the strangest feeling that by some chance the Ring of Power will some how be found, yes, the Ring. The One Ring forged by the Dark Lord Sauron in the fires of Mt. Doom.'

(-Midnight-)

Morantwen awoke with a sudden start. Her eyes had turned the brightest blue ever and she was sweating bullets. She didn't have a dream or anything like that she just woke up. Morantwen got up and ran to the fountain. She washed her face and looked into the mirror. She was calm now, very curious, but calm. Yet when she looked into the mirror her eyes had gotten even brighter than before. Something must be wrong, she thought, never before have my eyes been so bright. Then, out of nowhere, she was in a trance, a somewhat dream.

Everything was a blur, zooming forward very fast toward a gently rolling plain. It was the Shire. Morantwen knew of the Shire since she had traveled along the borders many a time with Elenriel Greenleaf. Then it slowly went down a path toward a single hobbit-hole. But where it would of stopped, the scenery changed ... to Mordor. The sight went up Barad-dur and the Eye of Sauron then the sight zoomed to Orodruin. Then she heard the Black Speech from inside the Mountain of Doom.

"Ash nazg dubatuluk, Ash nazg gimbatul, Ash nazg thrakatuluk, Agh burzum-ishi krimpatul!"

Then in Elven tongue she heard in a low, hissing voice, "Morantwen, I know where you are. You cannot escape!"

Morantwen' s view came back to the fountain and her eyes continued to be blue. She was trying to catch her breath when her father, Lord Ringare, came toward her.

"_Morantwen, lle tyava quel_?"

-Morantwen, do you feel all right? -He asked in elven tongue.

"Yes, Father, I am fine. Just had a bad dream. Nothing to be concerned about."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes"

"All right then, but please try to get some rest"

Morantwen' s father walked away, leaving her to think. Hmm. The Shire. Why the Shire? How did this happen? Does Sauron really know where I am? She thought. Then a feeling of adventure flowed through her veins. A sudden urge to go to the Shire came into her mind. Yes, she decided, it was time for another journey that had no real meaning and depended strictly on curiosity.

Morantwen ran to her closet and changed into her riding clothes. Her clothing consisted of a dark blue-green, deep neckline top with sleeves that got wider as they neared her wrist, along with dark blue-green pants and black riding boots that went up to her knees.

The young elf ran to the stables to find a suitable and fast horse. But instead she found a very surprising sight. Instead of the beautiful candles surrounding the area, making light from all angles, she saw nothing. Darkness. The horses were dead quiet.

"Hello? Is there anyone in there?" Silence. Morantwen slowly lit the candles, glancing behind her after she lit each one. She walked toward the last candle. It lit up and she glanced around. She felt safe now. The horses were asleep in their stables.

"Hmm. One last test," she thought. She ran out toward the well not far from there. Morantwen glanced in to see her reflection. She focused on her eyes. They were jet black except for the thin strips of blue from before. Her tension eased and she fully relaxed now.

Then, out of nowhere, the hair of the back of her neck stood on end. Morantwen turned around but everything looked normal. She stared into the well. And into her nightmare. Her eyes. As she stared, the color in her eyes swirled like a pot of boiling, black poison. Then, a windmill of blue color came into the iris' concoction. The color grew. Until color of her eyes were the colors of the curved rivers.

"No," she whispered, "I must go now."


	2. Unexpected Quarrels

A/N

To Navaer: Thanks but I think I'll stick with what I have.  Thanks so much for the websites though! :)

To Erindi: Aww...poor sleepy Aragorn-lover. :)

Morantwen ran to the stables where her favorite horse Astalder lay. Astalder was a beautiful mount whose coat was like a shimmering silver that glistened in the light but if there was no light, it was literally impossible to see him. That is why Morantwen, even with her sharp-seeing elven eyes, had to light the candles to see the horse.

Morantwen ran up to the horse and found that he was already up and waiting. She jumped on in mid-run.

"_Rima, Astalder! Rima!_"

-"Run, Astalder! Run!"-She yelled. Astalder leaped out of the stable and through the forest of the Darkened Realm. Then, in a blinding flash, Morantwen found herself on the ground floor. She quickly looked around and found Astalder lying near a ditch. As she approached the ditch she realized it wasn't a naturally made ditch.

"Orcs." She leaped onto her mount again and ran on. Deep in the braches of the trees were sounds. Shrieks. What came crawling down the trees confirmed Morantwen' s worst fears. Tens of orcs came down each and every tree, surrounding her.

"_Aiya! Rima ten 'ta, Astalder!"_

-"Oh! Run for it, Astalder!"- Morantwen pulled out her sword. It was a beautiful sword made by her uncle. It was as light as the air yet when in contact with something, it made a clean cut with no pressure made by the holder. The hilt, which was long enough to place two hands upon, was crystallized and see-through. Unless someone was staring directly at the sword, no one would know it was there.

Astalder ran without commands through the brush and trees of the Realm. Orcs jumped from bough to bough in order to keep up. Then, one of them took a risk and jumped Morantwen and Astalder. _Slash! _To the orc's dismay, Morantwen's blade severed its head with her accidental wrist movement. At this action, the orcs screeched and shrieked horribly. They started to leap down the smooth bark and rain down upon her. Aghast, Morantwen started to force her mount to speed up. Astalder, not even trying to run, started to sprint at a pace that even the orcs' arrows couldn't pin down.

All of a sudden, Morantwen's instincts took hold. She extended her arm swiftly to the left and grasped onto the cold, silver-like covering of the trees. She leaped off her mount and spun around, using the tree as means of support, landing in the opposite direction, toward the orcs. She held her sword level toward the orcs in front of her and decapitated them before they could move one muscle. But do not worry; she did not come out unharmed. Morantwen spun around to face a continuous wave of the massively gruesome creatures. As she tried to kill each one of them, she herself was being somewhat slain simultaneously. She stabbed one through the head as its blade sliced down her arm. Her groans of pain blended in with the shrieks of the orcs. But Morantwen kept going.

Then, Morantwen quickly glanced to her left. She saw a short bough not too far away. She managed to somehow depart herself from some of the orcs. She sprinted toward the branch and leaped upon it. She then hopped higher and higher until her head barely grazed the canopy. She pulled out her bow and aimed several arrows toward the mass of deadly creatures. Every arrow met its target. The young elf smirked and ran through the canopy above the half defeated group of orcs. Morantwen blew a shrill whistle. As she leaped from bough to bough, Astalder came toward her in respond to her call. The elf jumped down about fifty feet onto the back of her sturdy mount.

"Oh, god. I'm getting to old for this. It is amazing what a thousand years can do to the body."

Astalder turned around and bolted toward the edge of the realm. Morantwen could still hear the shrieks but as her steed sped across the rough terrain, the calls grew fainter. She turned around. What she saw was unbelievable. Half of the orcs were still on her tail. About a league away, but still on her tail. Astalder reached the borders of Middle-Earth and hesitated for he had not been there hundreds of years.

Morantwen was confused for a second.

"_Rima. Rima, Astalder."_

-"Run. Run, Astalder," Morantwen whispered. A few moments later, Astalder began sprinting again. All of a sudden, something whizzed by Morantwen's ear. A great pain rattled down her body. An arrow had gone through the back of her ear. The warm, thick, blood dripped down her hair and her clothing and trailed onto the ground behind her. Morantwen desperately covered her ear and tried to stop the flow. More arrows sped past them. She turned around and saw that orcs were once again falling back but Morantwen was worried. She had led tens of orcs into Middle-Earth. She would never hear the end of it.


	3. Elf meets Hobbit

After a couple of hours, as far as her elven eyes could see, any trace of orcs had completely disappeared. The environment that surrounded Morantwen and her mount was starting to gradually change from dead uncared-for land to evergreen grasses and trees. Morantwen realized that she was beginning to reach the Shire. Some moments later, Morantwen reached the gate-guard.

"Who goes there?" the old hobbit said with raspy voice.

"Morantwen Ariamor," she answered, "An elf-maiden from the Darkened Realm of Aridan. I come to speak with a friend."

"And who might this friend be?"

"He dwells in Hobbiton, in Bag End."

"Oh. Right. An elf comes to see the Bagginses. Typical. You may go through."

"Thank you." Morantwen led Astalder through the gate. And as she did so, she glanced back at the guard. He scowled and shook his head. She responded to that with a smile. Morantwen brought Astalder to a slow gallop through the winding roads of Whitfurrows and Bywater. Then she started to recognize places from her vision. Subconsciously following the roads she came to the single hobbit-hole by midday. Morantwen leaped off her mount and tied him to a nearby tree. She walked over to the tiny house and gently knocked upon the circular, green door. The door opened slightly to reveal that there were no lights on inside. A face appeared in the crack of the door.

"Yes?"

Morantwen hesitated because, even though she had met hobbits before, this one seemed to give off a different energy. He was very soft-spoken and shy. The face of the young hobbit was slightly pale and angled. Curly, dark hair covered eyes that were as bright as the sky above them. They gave off an intense feeling. At one look, one could easily tell he was frightened but Morantwen looked farther into the beautiful, wide eyes and found that this hobbit was indeed scared but he did not know exactly why. After a brief moment, Morantwen spoke.

"Um, Is there a Baggins here?"

"Yes. I am one. What do you want?"

"May I please ask you a question?"

"I am very sorry but I have to go," the halfling said. Morantwen desperately tried to start a conversation without being too straightforward. Suddenly she had an idea.

"_Mithrandir_."

The hobbit's eyes widened even more so. "What did you say?"

"You know him, don't you? Was he here?"

"Depends. How do you know him?"

"He helped my family. I owe him my life. Do not worry. I am an ally," she finished with a smile. He opened the door. "Come in. Oh, my name is Frodo Baggins," he said, eyes downcast, deep in thought.


	4. A History of a Ring

Morantwen breathed a sigh of relief, "Morantwen Ariamor." She crouched down through the door and then stood up as far as she could once she got in. Frodo walked past her and into the kitchen. "Sit down. Would you like some tea?" he asked politely.

"Yes, please. Thank you," replied Morantwen.

"So, what did you come here for?"

"I came here because something happened to me the other night. And it involved Bag End."

"Hmm. What exactly happened?"

"Well, I woke up in a panic and just when I started to relax, I fell into a trance. Which is very surprising because I can't do things like that consciously. It started with the Shire and overlooked the party tree. It winded down many roads and came up to the front door of Bag End. But at that moment, it changed. To Mordor. To the eye of Sauron and Orodruin...Frodo?"

Frodo was staring into another room, eyes wide. His face turned extremely pale and he was uncontrollably shaking. "Frodo, what's wrong?" Morantwen asked, voice full of concern. She stood up. Frodo didn't move an inch. Morantwen peered her head into the direction that Frodo's head was posed. He was looking at a chest.

"No. No, no, no..."he whispered. He turned around and stared up into Morantwen's face, "What do you think this means? Why did you see that?"

Morantwen, surprised by his reaction, stuttered slightly, "I...uh...don't know," a long awaited thought came out, "What exactly do _you _think this means, Frodo?"

Frodo turned around and looked down at the floor, "I...I...I have it. I have the One Ring."

"What!" Morantwen hissed in surprise, "How long? Where did it come from? Does Gandalf know?" she started to calm down, "I can not believe this. It was gone, it...it disappeared. No. This is not good. I...this can't happen. _Does _Gandalf know?"

Frodo spun around slowly and cocked his head slightly to the side. "Uh...yes. Why?"

"Do you have," Morantwen paused in screaming, "oh, nothing, never mind. Do you know where Gandalf is now?"

"None the slightest. He just told me to put the Ring out of sight and that he...had to go. There were questions that he needed to see to. Questions that needed answering. I...uh...had to keep it...uh secret..."

"Well you succeeded in that."

"...And safe. Be quiet, Morantwen."

"Hmm. I think I might know where Gandalf is. But I am not entirely sure," whispered Morantwen, mumbling to herself. Meanwhile, Frodo walked into foyer and kneeled down in front of the chest and unlocked it. Morantwen looked up. The hinges squeaked horribly as he lifted up the lid. Inside, parchment paper rolls and documents stuck out at obscure angles. He dug and buried deep into it a pulled out one, small, dully-colored, sealed envelope.

All of a sudden, Morantwen heard a voice inside her head. A low, hissing voice. _"Ariamor. Tula. Sana ta."_ Morantwen's eyes glowed malevolently. She groaned and shook her head. "Is that it?" she whispered, just loud enough for Frodo to hear.

"Yes. Gandalf gave it to me after...my uncle, Bilbo Baggins, left to him as he left for Rivendell."

"But, did Gandalf tell you about the Ring's origin?"

"No, not really. But I always suspected something was wrong. Bilbo was the kind of hobbit that everyone thought was cracked. He was always acting strange and got treasures from supposedly nowhere. I somewhat knew that he had that ring, but, he always kept it hidden. I used to try and eavesdrop on Gandalf and Bilbo's brief conversations and I would pick up bits and pieces. I tried to fit them all together but it didn't make sense. Then that is when I had one vague and seemingly impossible idea that maybe Bilbo got the Ring. The One Ring. But I still didn't have any proof."

"But why did you want to figure out why Bilbo had the Ring? Why did you need proof?"

"For...myself. I suspected something. I knew that he was up to something. I just had to figure out what it was. Then I was almost sure he had to have had it when he disappeared and that it must be the reason for Gandalf's leave and...and your trance. I don't know."

"Hmm," pondered Morantwen, "I think I should probably try to find Gandalf, Frodo. I think I might know where he most likely is. That is, if you will pardon my leave."

"Oh. Of course."

"If Gandalf comes back, don't tell him I was here. I am not sure how he will react to the fact that you told me about the Ring. Were you going to show me it? Because you are just holding it."

"Oh" Frodo looked at the envelope for a moment then placed it back into the chest, along with all the documents and papers. Morantwen stood up as high as she could and walked out. She then stood tall and stretched. Frodo walked out. Morantwen kneeled down.

"I will come back, whether I find Gandalf or not. If he is not here to protect you, then I will."

"Somehow I trust you completely. I don't know why but I feel that I can confide in you." Morantwen beamed and brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes.

"_Namaarie, _Frodo," Morantwen whispered. Frodo smiled.

"_Namaarie, _Morantwen," he replied. Morantwen stood up, "_Tenna' ento lye omenta_." She walked to the tree where Astalder lay sleeping. Once she came within two feet of her mount, he jumped up to his hooves. She untied her elven rope from around the tree and leaped onto her horse. She glanced over at Frodo, who was still standing there, looking at her.

Morantwen smiled, "If Gandalf or I do not come back soon, do not worry. I will make sure one of us come back, sooner or later. Meanwhile, pretend I was never here."

Frodo nodded and smiled slightly, "Be careful."

Astalder bolted at Morantwen's commands. Through the paths and dirt roads they went and past the trees and houses. Astalder went nonstop, turning swiftly and avoiding all obstacles. After some time, they reached the borderline. Morantwen saw them go by in a blur.


	5. Search for a Wizard

"_Auta a' Minas Tirith"_

-"Go to Minas Tirith,"- Morantwen commanded Astalder. Days past. She stopped only to rest and eat. A fortnight came and went. Morantwen started to become dizzy from the blur she saw for hours at a time. The border of Gondor approached. After a couple of hours, Morantwen reached the glowing white Tower of Guard and reached upon the entrance. There, on each side, was a guard, clad in Gondorian armor. A silver tree, impressed onto the armor, lay upon the breast. The tall, silver helmets upon their heads were laden with two small raven's wings on the sides of a small circlet with a star in the middle. Under their shoulder armor, a full-length cloak draped down.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. I was...in the area, one could say, and I was just wondering if you happened to recently see a Gandalf the Gray."

One of the men spoke up, "Very sorry, M' lady. You just missed him. He left just a couple o' days ago."

"Do you know where he went?"

"Sorry again, M' lady. That's alls I 'no."

Morantwen sighed heavily with exasperation, "Thank you very much. I must be going now."

Morantwen and Astalder turned away from the gates and its ornate guards and faced their path back to the Shire. "Oh, Astalder, why did I ever do this? It is the strangest thing but what Frodo was saying, about how he somehow felt he could trust me and confide in me, is stuck in my head. Because I had a similar feeling. I felt a power in me, and a need to protect him. I do not understand what is going on. I just have to forget about the fatigue and focus on the goal ahead. Let us go. Again."

Once again, Morantwen and her mount set off for another three weeks of nonstop riding. After a fortnight, they reached realm of Eriador. Morantwen sighed, "I may be an elf, but I am getting a bit tired and I swear if Gandalf isn't there, I'll strangle him when I find him."

Again, Morantwen reached the border and guard of the Shire.

"Who goes there?"

She stopped abruptly, "Morantwen, I have to go Bag End, please."

"Oh, yes. I remember you. Go on."

Astalder bolted down the road through Whitfurrows and past Bywater. Morantwen suddenly jumped as she heard a low, booming voice with her sharp ears, "Confound it all, Samwise Gamgee!" Gandalf, she thought. They sprinted down the road right in front of Frodo's home. "What did you hear, speak!" she heard Gandalf again. She leaped off Astalder, who was in mid-sprint, and bolted toward the door. She stumbled on the stairs. Strange, she thought, oh, well, shows my elven grace. She reached out, turned the knob, and swung through the entrance.

Gandalf, Frodo, and another younger hobbit, all turned their heads, bewildered, toward her.

"Morantwen!" Frodo exclaimed.

"Sorry, I'm late."

Frodo smiled. Gandalf looked stunned. The young hobbit didn't know how to feel.

"Morantwen Ariamor?" Gandalf said.

She nodded and smiled, "Now wait, before you bring up old memories, who is this?" She pointed toward the hobbit.

Frodo answered, "This is Samwise Gamgee, my best friend and...my gardener."

Samwise blushed slightly, "Most people call me Sam, M' lady." Morantwen laughed, "So you are the one I heard Gandalf yelling at." Sam turned bright red before he turned around.

"What are you doing out of Aridan?" asked Gandalf. Morantwen told Gandalf the story of the trance, the stables and the orcs. Meanwhile, Frodo and Sam, quietly had tea in the kitchen, listening and talking in whispers. Morantwen told Gandalf what Frodo said he was feeling and how she had felt. She told every detail, every thought that went through her mind.

"Hmm. Strange. Well, I was going to send Frodo and Samwise to Bree alone. But, it seems if you go along with them, you might figure out more about this and personally, it would probably better for their safety," Gandalf whispered with a smile.

"Now wait just a minute!" yelled Sam from the kitchen. Both Sam and Frodo came out of the kitchen with smirks on their faces.

"What makes you think that we can't protect ourselves?" Frodo questioned with a laugh. Gandalf glanced over at Morantwen.

"Hmm..."smiled Morantwen sarcastically. All of a sudden, very far away there was a unique sound. There was silence in the hobbit-hole. Everyone stared at Morantwen.


	6. Trust is the Beginning of a Quest

Her eyes glowed and made her pupils disappear. Then, as soon as it came, it went. Her eyes dimmed and her pupils appeared. Every shade of blue in her eyes whirred around and black came into it like fan blades.

Morantwen shook her head and looked at Gandalf with the fear in the dark shafts of her eyes, "What's out there?"

"Whatever it is," said Gandalf, striding toward the window, "It must be more powerful than any of us can imagine now. If it could cause what it did to your eyes from that distance, then it must be extremely deadly." Frodo and Sam looked at one another apprehensively. Morantwen was staring at the floor, submerged with unanswerable questions. Gandalf was still staring out the window. It was early morning and still dark out. Finally, Gandalf spoke up, "We should head out."

Sam, Frodo, and Morantwen looked up simultaneously, "Now?"

"Yes," sighed Gandalf, still looking out the window. He turned around and walked into the foyer to grab his hat and staff. Sam let out a sigh. Morantwen lifted up her head to look at him. Sam suddenly had an expression on his face that made it sure he was trying to find a reason for his sigh.

"Uh...didn't get any sleep last night." Frodo glanced at him. Morantwen smiled. Sam quickly stood up in his nervousness and followed Gandalf. Morantwen and Frodo looked at one another and laughed. They too followed Gandalf. They walked outside to face Astalder. Sam let out a yelp. Everyone looked toward him questionably. He looked at all the faces and started studdering.

"I...uh...we..." he pointed toward the horse, "I don't have to go on that, do I?" He was trembling. Morantwen tilted her head to the left slightly. She had never seen someone so frightened of riding a horse.

"No," she replied, "we will just use him to carry our packs and in case of emergency." Sam let out a long sigh of relief, "Good." Morantwen held out her hand.

"May I take your pack?"

Sam hesitated for a moment, "That's all right, M' lady. I can carry it." Morantwen smiled understandingly. She offered her hand to Frodo. He hesitated as well. She knew why. She put her hand down and took off all her equipment and buckled it onto the horse. Morantwen then held out her hand again. He smiled and shrugged off his pack. Morantwen took it gently and saddled it onto Astalder. Frodo then turned to Sam.

"Sam, why don't you give her your pack? There's no need to carry it. Besides I don't want to feel too lazy."

"I know, Mr. Frodo. The last thing I want to do is make you feel bad. I just want to help."

"Sam," Frodo said, barely raising his voice, "You're leaving the Shire to follow me to Bree. One of the last places you'd want to go, according to your Gaffer. You're helping enough."

"It is no large matter," said Morantwen, "if Sam wants to keep on his pack, let him do so. It does not pose a problem. Let him be a proud helper."

"Yes," grumbled Gandalf, "You all are facing a journey. No need to argue now." They finished their conversation and walked down the road. Gandalf lead the small line on his horse, followed by Frodo and Sam, with his pack. Bring up the rear, came Morantwen leading Astalder.

In time, they walked in light forest surroundings. All of the crew started to become extremely wary. Any time a bird called, Morantwen noticed Sam could not help but jump in surprise. Gandalf, startling everyone, stopped abruptly. He leaped off and walked toward them. He kneeled down in front of Frodo and Sam.

"Be careful, all of you. The enemy has many spies in his service. Birds, beasts." He directed his head toward Frodo.

"Is it safe?" Frodo placed his hand upon his breast, over his vest pocket. "Never put it on," whispered Gandalf, "for the agents of the Dark Lord will be drawn to its power. Always remember, Frodo, the Ring is trying to get back to its master. It wants to be found." Frodo looked down at the ground. Gandalf stood up and walked toward Morantwen.

"Watch over them. Do not let them out of your sight. I know I can trust you." Morantwen was more serious than ever before.

"Do not worry, Mithrandir. I will protect them with my life. I feel that they are my key priority now," she whispered.

Gandalf nodded and put a hand on her shoulder, "Just remember what I said." Gandalf walked back to his horse and jumped on. All of a sudden, his mount bolted straight away. For a moment there was complete silence. Morantwen started to sense that Frodo was panicking. She was just about to say something when Sam just caught her eye, shrugged and started walking. Frodo then came into Sam's eye. He just made an expression that simply said, 'It looks like we've got nothing to lose, let's just go.' Frodo followed with a blank, somewhat tired look on his face. Morantwen followed silently, walking with light feet.


	7. Getting to Know One Another

Through a green plain and by a small waterfall, they past, they all walked through a farm and by a small scarecrow. Frodo walked ahead and Sam followed, both closely watched by Morantwen, who was but a couple feet behind. Suddenly, she saw Sam stop. Frodo must have heard Sam because he turned around slowly. Sam spoke quietly.

"This is it." Frodo cocked his head to the side.

"This is what?"

"If I take one more step, it'll be the farthest away from home I've ever been." Frodo smiled and walked to Sam's side. He placed a hand on his back.

"Come on, Sam," Sam hesitantly walked forward. Morantwen looked with a smile on her face.

"Remember what Bilbo used to say," he continued, imagining his uncle talking to him amidst the endless times of afternoon tea, "'It's a dangerous business, Frodo, Going out your door, you step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet...there's no knowing where you might be swept of to.' " Morantwen followed them, thinking of the bond between Frodo and Sam for a while. Frodo looked forward, as he walked, to stare at the rolling plains. And Sam looked down at the ground, following his caring and best friend, a smile of pride and of joy upon his face. After an hour of nonstop walking, Sam started to get tired of the silence.

"Maybe we should have supper now."

Frodo turned around, "Yeah, all right." They walked to a little area by a tree and Sam sat down to prepare the meal. Morantwen tied Astalder to a nearby tree and started to pick up small branches and twigs for firewood. She brought them over and set them under the small cauldron that Sam had set up. Frodo took two sticks and started to light the fire. Morantwen sat down with her back against the tree. She took out a small knife and grabbed a small, thick branch. She put the knife against the wood and started shaping it. Suddenly, she heard a spark. She looked at Frodo. He had started the fire. Sam started to throw carrots and herbs into the water. Frodo walked over to Astalder gingerly. He reached up to his pack and pulled out a few items. One was a pipe. Neatly carved and curved downward. The other objects were a pouch, made of the finest leather cowhide, and a book. It had a red, cloth-bound cover. He then walked over to the tree that Morantwen was lying against and climbed up to the top. Morantwen paid this no special attention, but turned her head toward him to see what was in the pouch. She focused her eyes as Frodo pulled on the thin, velvet string. He pulled out some brown leaves. Morantwen went back to her carving with a smile. Pipe weed, she thought, of all things to bring, pipe weed.

A light scent of the smoke hung over the area. It blended in with the smell of Sam's wonderful chicken soup. He was stirring the food and staring up into the trees. He stopped stirring after a while and reached down to pull out a single flower. It was a beautiful five-petal daisy. Blue, it was, and nicely scented.

Morantwen looked at Sam's eyes and found an intense feeling. They were glazed with amazement and caring. She could certainly tell he had an extreme love for plants. He placed the flower against his pack carefully. He looked at Morantwen.

"So...you're an elf, right?"

"Yes."

"Wow. I've always wanted to meet an elf. Are they all like you? I mean, like looks-wise? 'Cause 'cording to my old Gaffer's description, I wouldn't drawn 'a picture like you. No offense, 'o 'course. I think you're really pretty and all. Really."

Morantwen laughed, "Actually, I am a rare kind of elf. They are different than Middle-Earth elves. Middle-Earth elves are fair-skinned and have light brown or blonde hair color and are somewhat taller."

"Do you mean you're not from Middle-Earth?"

"No, I am not."

Frodo looked down, "Really? Where are you from?"

"Far up north, about a couple thousand miles from Arnor and east from Forodwaith. I live in a realm

named the Darken Realm in the region of Aridan."

"Wow," whispered Sam, "So how do you know Mr. Frodo?"

"I do not really know him, actually. I met him about a month and a half ago. We talked for about a couple of hours then I went to find Gandalf."

"Where did you go, Morantwen?" asked Frodo.

"Oh, I went to Minas Tirith. That is where they hold Isildur's history and the finding of the One Ring that is now in your pocket. I thought that is where he would be. I was right but late. He had left a couple of days before me, according to the gate guards. It took me a fortnight and then some to get there and the same to get back."

Sam nodded to show he was paying attention. Frodo had gone back to his reading and pipe smoking. Morantwen looked at the piece of wood she was carving. It was extremely sharp. It could've gone clean through Sam's steel cauldron. She decided to see just how scared Sam could get. This is really cruel, she thought, oh well. She aimed right past Sam's head. Morantwen threw it.


	8. Elves and Elvish

Sam heard something whiz past his head. Then, a second later, he heard a sharp thud behind him. He turned around. He saw that a stick was implanted firmly in a tree behind him. He turned around and looked at Morantwen. She was completely flawless in being incognito until, that is, she looked up at Sam.

"Uh, Is there a problem, Sam?"

"Problem! I could've gotten my head skewered! Is that what you were doing? Drawing my death plan, eh?"

"Sam! Sam. I am sorry! It was just a joke. I was testing your temper and...seeing how scared you get."

Sam frowned and went back to his cooking. Morantwen felt guilty and walked over to him.

"Sam, I am sorry. Really. It was just a joke. The silence is suffocating, you know? I was being immature. Forgive me?" Sam was about to reply when Frodo mumbled something.

"That was funny, though."

"Go back to your reading, Mr. Frodo," Sam said. He looked at Morantwen and smiled. He nodded.

Suddenly, Frodo closed his book and sat bolt upright. Sam and Morantwen looked at him as he jumped out of the tree. Automatically, Sam followed him, obviously not having a clue why. Morantwen, too, followed along. Frodo stopped behind a log and stared beyond. From a closing distance, Sam and Morantwen could see a blue tint in the air.

"Sam, Morantwen," Frodo whispered. He turned around, "Wood-elves." Morantwen rushed forward. Sam came behind her. The elves were singing softly as they walked through the wood. Morantwen looked solemnly at them.

"They are going to harbor beyond the White Tower. To the Grey Havens."

"They're leaving Middle-Earth," whispered Frodo, quiet with amazement.

"Never to return," said Sam, "I don't know why...it makes me sad." They watched for a little while and then they walked silently back. Sam suddenly gasped and ran forward. Morantwen looked up curiously. Then she realized that while she was thinking about the Wood-elves, she didn't realize something was burning. She reached the area and saw Sam pouring his full canteen entirely over the fire. He looked up and laughed slightly.

"Soup's ready."

Frodo and Morantwen went over and sat down. Sam took out three bowls he took from Bag End and filled them with the boiling, savory liquid.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. I...also made sausages." He took out a pan from the area where the fire once was. What was on the plate didn't look too bad. Except for the singed blotches on some of them. They ate for a while and drank water. Sam had some in a bowl from Frodo and Morantwen's canteens. Then, the sun waned and the moon brightened. Midnight began to near. Sam took the bowls and set them next to the soaked firewood. Morantwen stood up.

"Maybe we should sleep here for tonight," suggested Frodo. Morantwen and Sam agreed.

"You know," spoke Morantwen, "I do not feel all that tired. I think I will go and wash the bowls and such. Oh, and refill our canteens. It will not take that long." Frodo and Sam looked at one another and shrugged.

"All right," Sam whispered.

"_Diola lle."_

-"Thank you"-said Frodo. Morantwen raised her eyebrows.

"_Lle quen i'lambe tel' Eldalie?"_

-"You speak elvish?"-

He nodded with a smile.

"_Aiya, quel, Ta naa seasamin, san'."_

-"Oh, well, it is my pleasure, then."- She laughed. Sam looked horribly confused.

"Uh, I think elvish is pretty beautiful soundin' an' all. But do ya mind speakin' in a language that I can understand?"

Morantwen laughed, "I am very sorry, Sam. I just did not know that Frodo knew how to speak elvish. I got distracted. Sorry to bewilder you there." She picked up the dishes and canteens and walked down to the river. Meanwhile, Frodo and Sam found a spongy area of grass by a nearby tree. They lay down and tried to fall asleep. After a while, Frodo managed to get into a half-sleep when Sam abruptly knocked him out of it with a complaint.


	9. Hobbits Like Mushrooms

"Everywhere I lie there's a dirty, great root sticking into my back."

Frodo, eyes shut, trying to get back into the sleep he was in, wearily replied.

"Just shut your eyes...and imagine you're back in your own bed...with a soft mattress and a lovely feather pillow." Sam rested silently for a moment, disgruntled. Then piped up again.

"It's not working, Mr. Frodo. I'm never going to be able to sleep out here."

Frodo smiled, "Me neither, Sam." A little time after, when Frodo and Sam finally fell asleep, Morantwen came back with full canteens and spotless bowls and plates. She saw that Frodo and Sam were resting peacefully and walked as silent as a summer breeze. She carefully set down the items and lay the canteens next to their packs. She then walked toward the tree she was laying against earlier. She sat down and stared into the sky. Morantwen didn't know it then, but her eyes had turned blue on their own.

Morning came late and Morantwen watched as Sam and Frodo slept and snored quietly and blissfully through the rising of the sun. She decided to make breakfast before the hobbits woke up. She looked around and saw some mushrooms not far away.

"I hope they like mushrooms."

She picked some out and fried them over an open fire. The smell was wafting deliciously in the air. Sam groaned. Morantwen turned around to see him stretch and stop halfway. He sniffed the air and a smile came upon his face.

"Morantwen, are you awake?"

"Yes."

"I must be delirious because I smell mushrooms. Am I?"

"See for yourself." Sam opened his eyes and almost at once they got wider.

"Mushrooms! Where did you get them? Mr. Frodo! Mr. Frodo, wake up!" He shook Frodo roughly. Frodo moaned in protest.

"What, Sam? Mmm...something smells good. What is it? Sort o' smells like..." Suddenly Frodo's eyes opened and he sat bolt upright. He just sat there stunned, open-mouthed. Morantwen looked at them and laughed.

"Instead of sitting there staring at some really good food, want to try coming here and eating it, eh?"

As soon as she said that Sam and Frodo bolted toward the sizzling dish over the fire. They grabbed the bowls and took many mushrooms from the twenty-plus pile of the delectable goodies. Frodo also noticed a small pitcher. He pointed at it as he swallowed a mushroom.

"I don't remember havin' that."

Morantwen smiled, "That is because I made it last night." Frodo and Sam looked at her, wide-eyed, as she finished, "It is filled with fresh, cool raspberry juice. I made it last night as well. I left it in a crack of the rock under the water to cool it." Sam and Frodo stared at each other in amazement.

"You are one miraculous elf, and that's definitely no mistake," Sam said with a grin on his face. Morantwen smiled modestly as she daintily picked out a freshly roasted mushroom.

They finished eating the savory meal and drinking the deliciously sweet juice. Sam and Frodo rested as Morantwen washed out the pitcher and dish with a bowl filled with water instead of going to the river again. Frodo sighed as he stood up and stretched.

"We should probably go on now. That drink was very refreshing. I feel like I could walk all day," he said. Sam slowly stood up and went to grab his pack. Morantwen whistled as she put out the fire. At a slow gallop, Astalder came to his mistress. Morantwen placed the bowls and dishes into Frodo's pack, which was still on his saddle. Sam took off his pack again and fetched his cauldron. He also took out a burgundy satchel and walked a little out of the way. He came back with the satchel full of lumpy, little umbrella-shaped snacks. Morantwen shook her head. I guess they do like mushrooms, she thought.


	10. Seeing Double

So onward they went, seeing the same landscapes over and over again. They walked into a cornfield that barely went over Morantwen's head. Morantwen did not too much like the sharp maze path they were upon but that was nothing compared to the worries of Sam. Frodo was quite ahead of the group and knew the way better. When he veered off into the left of the path, Sam quietly followed but in his mind, he didn't like not seeing when he was headed. And much less did he like not knowing where his Mr. Frodo was headed. So when he came out of the impending darkness, and saw that Frodo was neither left nor right of him, he started to panic. He didn't ever hear Morantwen come behind him about ten feet away.

"Mr. Frodo? Frodo? Frodo!" he yelled. Frodo came rushing from the right corner in front of Sam. Sam, on the verge of tears, breathed a sigh of relief.

"I thought I'd lost you." Frodo stared at Sam with wonder in his eyes.

"What are you talking about?" he said. Morantwen was wondering the same question.

"It's just something Gandalf said."

"What did he say?"

"'Don't you lose him, Samwise Gamgee.' And I don't mean to." Frodo smiled.

"Sam, we're still in the Shire. What could possibly happen?" Just as he said that, something came out of crop beside them and slammed into Sam. Frodo and Morantwen looked down at him just as someone struck into Frodo. Morantwen stared down upon the two hobbits to see who or what had run into them. But the strangest thing, she realized she was not staring down upon two hobbits, but four. A blond-haired, hazel-eyed one and a green-eyed, light brown-haired one was laid upon her two friends. The one with green eyes spat out a bit of dirt and looked at his accidental victim. He looked in surprise upon Frodo and spoke to his comrade.

"Frodo. Merry, it's Frodo Baggins." Merry was just in the middle of standing up to look at his cousin.

"Hullo, Frodo." Sam jumped toward Frodo and the other hobbit.

"Get off him. Come on, Frodo." He pulled Frodo up and helped him brush off his clothing. Frodo looked at Merry and his other cousin, Pippin, and realized that they were holding and picking up a bunch of vegetables.

"What's the meaning of this?" he asked. Sam realized, as Merry and Pippin were giving all the vegetables to him, just exactly what was going on.

"You've been into Farmer Maggot's crop!" Merry nodded as he piled on carrots into Sam's arms. Suddenly, they heard a voice yelling from afar. Morantwen paused in laughing silently at the ridiculous little halflings to listen to what must have been Farmer Maggot.

"Get back here! Get out of my field! You know what's gonna happen when I catch up with you?" he yelled. The hobbits, closely followed by Morantwen and Astalder, ran briskly into the corn stalks. They are pretty fast, Morantwen thought with a smile. Though the smile quickly went away when she realized the crazy farmer was still on their tail. With an ax in hand as well!

"I don't know why he's so upset," yelled Merry, over the sound of rustling stalks and the farmer's inane yelling, "It's only a couple of carrots!"

"And some cabbages," Pippin added, "And those three bags of potatoes that we lifted last week. And-and then the mushrooms the week before."

"Yes, Pippin. My point is, he's clearly overreacting!" They started to come to the end of the crop wall. What they didn't know was that there was a cliff right outside it. Frodo came out first, stopping right at the edge to avoid toppling over. Pippin came not a second after, bumping slightly into Frodo. Merry came next, bumping into Pippin. And then there was Sam. As Morantwen came out with Astalder by her side, she saw Sam bumping nice and hard into Merry, sending them all downhill. Morantwen watched in strangely mild concern as she approached the edge and saw all the hobbits in a pile at the bottom of the ledge. With her elven grace, she walked gingerly down the rough, grassy floor. Carefully, but quickly, she reached the bottom with Astalder close behind. She watched as the four hobbits managed to untangle themselves from the confused mess they were in. Sam sat up and brushed himself off.

"Trust a Brandybuck and a Took!"

"What?" said Merry, rubbing dirt out of his hair (that was probably there before), "That was just a detour. A shortcut."

"A shortcut to what?"

"Mushrooms!" yelled Pippin. Him, Merry and Sam, who was dying for more mushrooms, raced over to collect them. Morantwen was busy eating a bit of lembas bread as she stroked Astalder's mane. Meanwhile, Frodo walked into the middle of the road they fell into and stared down it. He didn't like the feeling of thinking that he, Merry, Pippin, Sam and Morantwen were here alone.

"I think we should get off the road." Suddenly, he looked back at the road. Morantwen looked too. Her heart started to beat faster and harder. There was a puddle by her feet. She stared into it and focused on her image. But she could not. All she could see was her eyes. They were glowing brighter than the sun. She looked back at the road and immediately heard a shriek. It came shrill and chilling. She saw Frodo turn toward the other hobbits.

"Get off the road, quick!" he yelled. He looked at Morantwen and she could almost see the terror in his eyes. It turned her blood to ice. She gestured him to go. He nodded and leaped toward a hollow under a tree root. The others followed. Morantwen turned to the shadows. She led Astalder toward a wide-bodied tree that cast a large shadow.


	11. Hobbit Greetings

"_Dina,_"

-"Be silent," she whispered. She hid against the tree and pulled her cloak over her head. A black horse, mutilated and bleeding from nails embedded in it hooves, approached with a heavily cloaked rider in all black. Morantwen shook slightly in fright. She could only imagine how the hobbits were feeling. The black rider leaped off its mount and stood in front of the tree root where the hollow was. It lay on its knees and grabbed the roots, sniffing around it. It was drawn to something and Morantwen knew what it was. When she realized what it was, Morantwen's heart and bravery shattered. She exhaled deeply. Suddenly, the rider looked at her. Her eyes glowed maliciously and widened. She saw a log come out of the hollow and land someway away. The black rider swiftly leaped on his horse and bolted away.

Merry was first to bolt out. Followed by Frodo, Pippin, and Sam. Morantwen ran along side them, letting them run somewhat ahead. Astalder's reins were held tightly in her hands. They ran down the road and swerved sharply to the left. They slid down the side at a steep angle and stopped near to the bottom. Merry fell backward as he slid, fall behind in the order. They stopped as Merry started to get up.

"What was that?" he yelled. Frodo stopped abruptly. Not facing any of the others, he opened his hand. He stared at the small, glistening item in it. The Ring felt heavier in his palm. As he caught his breath, he placed it back in his vest pocket and sat down. Placing his hands over his face, Frodo closed his eyes and tried to relax.

Morantwen was also sitting down, against a tree, staring up at the road. She was shaking in fright. Her cloak covered her body entirely so that only her face was exposed. As she stared at the road, her vision started to blur. She rubbed her eyes. She couldn't see. Or, at least she couldn't see what was in front of her.

What she did see was a man. A man in a dimly lit inn. Morantwen would have sworn on her life that she had seen him before. There was a thick cloak upon his shoulders, the hood he wore, shadowed his face. A pipe in his mouth left a veil of smoke over his head, and his legs were stretched in front of him. He stared into Morantwen's blue eyes with eyes of grey. The image of the man began to fade. Morantwen's sight turned black. The road began to come through to the blackness until all trace of it was gone. Morantwen blinked and shook her head. Mounds of questions built up. She was totally unaware of the hobbits until Pippin started talking to her.

"So, who are you? I don't think I've ever seen you 'round here before." Morantwen jumped and turned her head toward him. He was sitting, waiting for a reply.

"Oh, you are right. I have not been around here lately. I am a friend of Frodo and of Gandalf the Grey. Morantwen Ariamor. But, uh, who are you?" Pippin smiled widely, stood up and stuck out his hand.

"Peregrin Took, at your service, M' lady. And this is-"

"Meriadoc Brandybuck, Miss. Cousin of Frodo and Pip here," said Merry, slapping Pippin behind the head.

"Ow! What was that for, Merry?"

"I don't know. Ask me later." Pippin scowled and laughed. Morantwen laughed as well.

"So that means you two and Frodo are all cousins?"

"Yep," said Merry and Pippin simultaneously.

"And Sam?"

"I'm just Mr. Frodo's gardener, Miss Morantwen," said Sam.

"Just his gardener!" exclaimed Merry, "Please! You two have been best friends since the beginning of time! Isn't tha' right, Frodo?"

"Hmm? Oh, of course," said Frodo, looking up. Morantwen walked over to Frodo and sat down next to him.

"Frodo, are you feeling all right? You seem a bit distracted," she whispered. Frodo looked up at her. He looked so tired.

"I have hardly any idea what's going on. I don't know where Gandalf is and I don't know the point of going to Bree," he whispered, looking at his fellow hobbits laughing and playing, "And Sam knows less than I do, meanwhile, Merry and Pip don't know anything at all about it. I don't know about you. Well, do you know what that thing was?" Morantwen looked into Frodo's bright blue eyes with her own. She took a deep breath.

"I wish I knew. But, I think it is what made my eyes so bright that night."

"True. And that was nothing compared to how they just looked. That...thing.... did something to me. To the Ring. The Ring seems to be drawing itself to the enemy. It was taking over me. I would've put it on if it weren't for Sam. He stopped me." Morantwen looked at Frodo in disbelief.


	12. A New Perspective On Things

"You _almost _put on?" she yelled, "How did you even take it out of your pocket? The enemy was above your head and you exposed the One Ring?" Frodo looked at Morantwen in surprised anger.

"I didn't mean to."

"Oh, sure! Of course you did not! You just subconsciously pulled out the Ring to put it on and disappoint Gandalf who trusted you to keep the Ring safe, which I have to admit, you succeeded in doing so wonderfully, and of whom thought a _hobbit_ could manage to go to Bree with the most harmful item in Middle-Earth safely! Is that right?" After a moment, Frodo turned his head away. Morantwen looked away too. She was ashamed of herself.

"It did something to you too," he whispered shakily, "I know you didn't really mean that," he faced Morantwen, "did you?" Morantwen looked at him.

"I...it just...I am so afraid. I had heard stories of the Fall of Lord Sauron and the loss of the One Ring. I had heard men talking about the Last Battle. The gore...and the mutiny. I never wanted to see anything like that happen. Rumor grew of Sauron regaining his strength. And then...my trance didn't make it better at all. Then, when I found out you had the One Ring...I was so worried. I can fight with the best ability and to the end, but I cannot bear watching ones that I care about die. The artistry painted by my people portraying that successful yet horrifying battle was at every corner I turned in the Hall of Nrida, the royal hall of our people. After my mother died, in battle, surprisingly enough, I knew what it was like to feel... pain. Most elves I knew were living carefree, painless lives. I was busy having nightmares about dying at the arm of the Deceiver. No one knew. I couldn't tell-couldn't trust-anyone. Not even my father. I am possibly the only elf with problems in and outside Middle-Earth. Problems that aren't quick-answered, life-or-death situations. I have to suffer."

Frodo turned to look at Sam and the others. They were having the time of their lives. Suddenly, Sam looked at Frodo. Frodo, surprised, tried to smile and apparently succeeded in do so. Sam turned and went back to skipping rocks in a nearby river. Morantwen looked up at the sky and laughed quietly. Frodo looked at her questionably.

"If I suffer so much, then why do I feel so...happy, at the moment? I think I just needed to get away for a while. But"- She stopped and looked at Frodo.

"How are you feeling? Hmm?" Frodo looked at Morantwen and actually smiled. He scratched his head and looked at his fellow halflings.

"Well, surprisingly good. Worry seems to melt away at the moment. I realize... I've taken things for granted in life. It's not all about ale and tobacco. Or singing songs at parties that are always occurring. Or... eating and sleeping. It's about, like, for instance, Sam. He respects nature more than most hobbits could imagine. I've seen it. He takes time in planting and pruning. He'll take fifteen minutes just staring at a violet. It's people like that that are overlooked and made fun of. But it's people like that that are essential to life. Merry and Pippin, well...they're a whole different story. They are annoying but are the humor in life. I'm pretty sure the Shire would be boring without them. But...me. Where do I fit in?" Frodo closed his eyes and laid back.

"I just don't belong. There no reason I should stay in the Shire. There's nothing for me and nobody that wants me."

"Don't say that," whispered Morantwen, "They wouldn't be the same without you."

"You never heard the conversations spoken behind my back in pubs and...everywhere pretty much. What was their word? Oh yes, Cracked is the word for Bagginses. 'Bilbo Baggins, cracked, he is,' they say. 'And Mr. Frodo here, he's cracking.' I try to keep the mood up, keep the jokes running. But it's startin' to get to me. Ever since Bilbo left, my life has been going downhill. I've lost a significant amount of joy. I don't know."

Morantwen placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled broadly.

"Frodo. I know how you feel," she whispered, turning back to look at the sky, "But you cannot let your feelings stall your goals. Do not put yourself last but do not put yourself first. Your problems will be solved before the end. But it will not be now. Come, we should be going." Morantwen stood and helped Frodo up. Frodo walked to Sam and his cousins.

"Come on, Sam," he whispered in his ear, "we can't keep Gandalf waiting." Sam looked at Frodo questionably.

"What about Merry and Pippin? Are you going to tell them? Are they coming?" Frodo looked at Merry and Pip.

"No and yes. I'm not going to tell them but they are coming. They've probably got nothing better to do anyway."


	13. Riders and Weapons

(-Night-)

Morantwen and Frodo ran through the forest. Suddenly Astalder stopped, making Sam jump instinctively. Morantwen turned around to look at her mount. She gently ran her fingers through his mane. As she spoke gentle elvish she never broke eye contact. Frodo understood every word. Pippin walked over to him.

"Can you understand her?" Frodo looked at Pippin and nodded.

"I can understand her. But what she's saying doesn't make sense." He looked at Astalder. Except Astalder wasn't there. Just Morantwen, looking to the north. In her left hand was Frodo's pack, in the right, her own. She looked toward him. In the dark, her face was overshadowed. But, Frodo could see deep into her eyes, into reason.

"You let him go," he whispered. She smiled slightly and nodded.

"He's going back. To Aridan. There was no point for him to stay. There was a sense of burden." Frodo somehow sensed pain in Morantwen's heart as she spoke. He walked over to her and took his pack. He then ran ahead of the group, as the air suddenly got tense. Sam yelled to his fellow hobbit.

"Anything?"

"Nothing," Frodo replied. Then Pippin asked the question that was not hoped for by Sam, Frodo, or Morantwen.

"What is going on?" Fortunately, Merry answered it. Unfortunately, he boxed Frodo in a corner.

"That Black Rider was looking for something. Or someone. Frodo?" Frodo opened his mouth to say something but Pippin interrupted.

"Get down!" As they dropped behind some bushes in front of them, they all saw a silhouette. It was a Black Rider. The horse whinnied as it disappeared down the road.

"I have to leave the Shire," whispered Frodo to Merry, "Sam, Morantwen, and I must get to Bree."

"Right," replied Merry, nodding, "Buckleberry Ferry. Follow me." Suddenly, as soon as he had said that, a Black Rider came around them, its horse rearing its mangled head. Merry, Pippin, and Sam managed to get around, while Morantwen and Frodo were left in a panic. Morantwen yelled over the Rider's shriek.

"Frodo! Go left! I'll go right! Swift now! Go!" She sprint to the right but failed in grabbing its attention. Frodo was still trapped. But before Morantwen could think of anything to do, Frodo past the Black Rider swiftly. Morantwen exhaled and ran to follow the other hobbits. She ran down a dirt road and a wooden dock onto the raft. She turned around to see Frodo coming to the end of the dirt road with the enemy on his tail. She wasn't paying attention to the calls of Sam, Merry, and Pippin. Her thought was bent on the features of the so-called 'Black Rider'. The cloak upon it was heavy, its hand gloved with steel. The steel was in the shape of pointed scales. Morantwen couldn't hear any voices, all she could hear was the inhale and exhale of the evil Rider. She almost fell off the raft when Frodo jumped upon it.

"How far-to the nearest crossing?" he said, breathless with exhaustion.

"The Brandywine Bridge. Twenty miles," replied Merry.

After a couple of hours, they reached the Brandywine Bridge. While they were on the raft, they had gotten themselves organized. Sam arranged his pots nicely in his pack. Morantwen adjusted her weapons while Merry and Pippin watched in wonder.

Morantwen took out an assortment of weapons from her pack in all sorts of shapes. One was a knife, the blade was curved one way and the handle was bent in the other direction. She pulled the knife out of its ornate scabbard. Merry and Pippin's eyes twinkled as they saw the blade. Abstract designs of leaves were along it. Morantwen put it back in the sheath and slung it over her shoulder. Pippin thought it was so beautiful; he couldn't stop staring. He jumped when Morantwen tilted her head in his direction.

"Are you okay?" she asked. Pippin scratched his head and blinked rapidly.

"Oh, me? Yes, yes, I'm fine. Um, those are some pretty fine-looking weapons youse got there."

"This?" she pointed at the knife, "oh, its nothing much. If you liked that, you will really like this." She pulled out a strange-looking case. No straight lines were upon it. Leaf-like symbols were embellished upon its forest-green surface. She slowly pulled out the weapon inside. It was pretty much a long knife, is all. But what made it unique were, extensions, you could say. A curved spike stuck out each side of the elven-blade. Merry was strung. But that wasn't all.

What Merry and Pippin didn't see were the bow and the arrows upon Morantwen's back. The bow was smooth, pure silver with the same markings upon it as the blade. The string hooked onto it was a strand from her mother's own head. Her mother's hair was made of the finest threads ever. Softer than silk, they were, and durable. Morantwen shot many arrows and never has the strand frayed or broken. The arrows were made of the finest, lightest blue sapphire. The point was sharp and could pierce the skin with a small touch. It could pinpoint targets miles away and still manage a fatal strike. The end of it held a single Aridian leaf. It was smooth and tough, but also soft yet sturdy.

Morantwen put her weapons back into her pack neatly and pulled her cloak over her body. She looked into the water at her right. As the raft drifted along, everyone was silent, thinking about what had happened in the forest. Merry and Pippin were whispering amongst themselves while Sam counted his collection of mushrooms. Frodo was muttering to himself, hands to his forehead, shaking his head every once in a while.


	14. Floating On

Morantwen took her right hand and softly touched the water's surface with her fingertips. She loved the feeling of the cool liquid running past her skin. It reminded her of the silvery bark upon the majestic Seije, the royal trees set upon the entrance of the Hall of Nrida. Ninety feet tall, they must have been, with bent boughs draped in silky, fragile leaves.

Morantwen's mind flashed back to earlier days. Her childhood self was running past the elegant structures, holding her kin and close friends. She had turned into a beautiful marble building where she saw her mother. Her name was Vanima, Queen of Aridan. She had been reading that day. In a beautiful dress, it was, emerald green and down to the floor. The bottoms of the sleeves barely grazed the floor. Vanima raised her head. She smiled as her as her bright green eyes twinkled and her daughter ran into her arms. Morantwen suddenly came out of her memoirs. Tears were slowly falling from her eyes as she closed them and shut out the terrorizing blue still lingering.

Sam had finished counting his mushrooms, (nineteen, if you're wondering), and was staring into the distance. Thinking about, well, what his Mr. Frodo was thinking. Sam missed home already. He thought of his old Gaffer, and what he would say about now. A small smile came upon his face. Nights at the Green Dragon Inn were coming back to him now. Drinking songs and kegs of beer until dawn was a favorite pastime and Sam was starting to miss the ale. He didn't know if he was ever going to taste Green Dragon rum anytime soon. He closed his eyes and lay against his pack.

Merry and Pippin were still whispering, emptying their minds of all questions.

"Why are we going to Bree?" asked Pippin.

"I wish I knew. But I don't have a clue."

"Yeah. One minute we're stealing vegetables then suddenly we're heading to the Brandywine Bridge. What was that thing anyway? That... 'Black Rider'?"

"That's what I'm tryin' to figure out. I have a feeling Frodo knows something. Before the rider came in the forest, I knew Frodo was going to tell me something," Merry whispered at a lower tone. He and Pippin then slowly looked at Frodo momentarily.

Meanwhile, Frodo was laying down on the other side of the raft. His cloak was pulled over him like a sheet. Since his face was directed toward the river, no one else knew that he really was not sleeping at all. His piercing blue eyes were wide open and twinkled like two dim candles, which is what someone might have thought they were. Even under his cloak, Frodo was shivering uncontrollably. Fortunately, it was cold that night. Yes, he thought. That would be his excuse. The true reason that he was shivering was that he was beyond scared. He was terrified. Frodo looked at the moon and exhaled silently. His head was starting to explode. Too many questions, he thought, no answers. Will I ever figure this out? Frodo put his hand to his mouth and started biting his fingernails. He had to do something to stop himself from screaming in frustration.

Morantwen's sharp ears picked up Frodo's nail biting. To her, it was like glass breaking compared to the silence. She put her hand to her head, closed her eyes, and bit her bottom lip. She then turned her head toward Frodo. Suddenly, a smile crept upon her face. Morantwen realized that there was something about Frodo that made her happy any time she even so much as glanced at him. Morantwen didn't understand why she felt this way except that maybe his heart was just so pure and innocent that he literally brought forth joy.

The young elf stared back into the water and saw the moon reflecting back at her. It mesmerized her. The moon seemed to be the only thing that was problem-free and glowing. Morantwen started to forget where she was. Moonlight engulfed her. She was being absorbed in a force mightier than any she had felt before. Suddenly, the raft stopped, knocking her thoughts out of mind. She looked up as she jumped from the unexpected jolt.

"The Brandywine Bridge," sighed Merry, standing and stretching. Pippin tied the raft to the dock as Sam crawled toward Frodo. Morantwen watched as Sam shook Frodo's shoulder gently.

"Wake up, Mr. Frodo. Sorry, but anyway, I don't know how you can sleep after what happened, no offense. A bit frightening, that was," he whispered as Frodo pretended to slowly awake. Morantwen watched for reason because she knew Frodo was never really sleeping in the first place. But she had to admit; he was good at disguising it.

Once everyone was up and off the raft, Frodo led his hobbit friends through the Old Forest as his elven friend followed close behind. They weaved through the trees and thickets until they reached the guarded gates of Bree. Unfortunately, during this time, it was pouring.

"Come on," said Frodo, over the rain. His eyes were glowing bright as his skin was turning pale from the increasing cold. Frodo, Sam, Pippin and Merry ran out, watching where they were going and where everything else was going. Morantwen walked a couple feet behind, her feet not even creating ripples in the puddles she walked upon. She saw Frodo knock as hard as he could against the door.


	15. Young Sir and Underhill

"What do you want?" the Gatekeeper asked roughly. Frodo looked up at the man.

"We're heading to the Prancing Pony." The Gatekeeper looked upon the little halflings. He didn't even notice Morantwen through the sheets of rain.

"Hobbits. Four Hobbits," he acknowledged, "What business brings you to Bree?" Frodo started to let his tired mood take over.

"We wish to stay at the inn. Our business is our own."

"All right, young sir. I meant no offense. It's my job to ask questions after nightfall," he smiled, letting them walk past the gate door, "There's talk of strange folk abroad. Can't be too careful." Frodo and the other hobbits were let through but the Gatekeeper put his hand down when Morantwen tried to pass. The hobbits turned to watch, as Morantwen looked the Gatekeeper in the eyes. Her face turned cross.

"Excuse me, _young sir_," she said through bared teeth, "I believe your hand is in my way."

"I believe it is. Who might you be?"

"I do not believe I feel like telling you. But if you do not let me through, I believe I will be known as Your Worst Nightmare." Merry smiled at Morantwen's words.

"Now," she continued, "I am here to protect these young hobbits and I will not let you come in my way," she added, pushing his hand afar from her face, "Go on interrogating others that are worth being interrogated and leave unworthy ones to spend precious time doing things that are actually important and leave people like me alone to use anger on people they need it for. Oh, yes, and, uh, good evening, sir." Frodo raised his eyebrows as Morantwen walked past the Gatekeeper with a small smile on her face. Once they all walked a little distance, Pippin started laughing hysterically. Frodo laughed as well. Sam smiled as Merry stifled his own joyful giggling.

Morantwen and the hobbits walked down the sides of the roads. Her black hair hung in soaked strings around her. They all watched the signs while avoiding traffic.

"There!" yelled Morantwen over the rushing rain. They all looked at a sign not ten feet away. Inscribed upon it were the words, 'The Prancing Pony.' Above it was engraved a rearing pony. They all walked in, dripping water like a full-on faucet. Once again, Morantwen retreated to the shadow, as though she rather just watch, not be seen.

"Excuse me," whispered Frodo politely, just loud enough for someone to hear. The owner appeared over the towering counter.

"Good evening, little masters," said the owner with a booming voice, "If you're seeking accommodation, we got some nice cozy hobbit-sized rooms available, Mister..." Frodo hesitated for a moment, opening and closing his mouth.

"Uh...Underhill. My name's Underhill," he half-whispered. The owner raised an eyebrow.

"Underhill, yes," he whispered. Morantwen noticed he was getting suspicious. And she, herself, was getting pretty angry.

"We are friends of Gandalf the Grey," she said, voice laced with an elven accent. She slowly walked out of the shadows like a ghost. The owner jumped in fright. "Can you tell him we have arrived?" The owner cocked his head to the side.

"Gandalf? Gandalf?" he thought aloud, "Oh, yes. I remember. Elderly Chap. Big grey beard, pointy hat." Frodo nodded hastily.

"Not seen him for six months," said the owner, frowning. Frodo's nodding disappeared as quickly as if someone had slapped him. He looked at the floor and then turned toward the hobbits. They all leaned in. Morantwen looked around the so-called inn. More like a bar, she thought.

"What are we going to do now?" whispered Sam to his hobbit friends. They shrugged thoughtfully and then went to go find a table. Pippin turned around to look at Morantwen.

"Are you coming with us?" he said softly. He had a precious look on his face. His eyes twinkled like a child and smiled like a young boy, wanting to make friends but too shy to do so. Morantwen smiled.

"I'll be there in a moment, you go on ahead. I will buy you guys a round of drinks. Go tell the others." Pippin jumped in joy and ran to go do what he was told.


End file.
